


Out of Town

by CountrygalxHetalia



Series: Becoming the Watson-Holmes Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, Parentlock, Sherlock being a dork, adorableness, gifset based
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 16:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1354495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountrygalxHetalia/pseuds/CountrygalxHetalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, they're are a ton of parentlock and fluffy johnlock gifsets on tumblr, and I just can't resist writing something for them, so this will be where they are kept! :D I do hope you enjoy them!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of Town

**Author's Note:**

> Ridiculous title, I know, if ya'll think of anything better please lemme know :D They'll be more to come, promise <3
> 
> Inspired by http://watsonsdick.tumblr.com/post/79945039162/au-parentlock-johns-out-of-town-when-is :D

            Sherlock woke up early to weak morning sunlight forcing its way into his room and he huffed in irritation when he realized John wasn’t lying next to him. He hated it when John left for any reason. This time his husband was visiting his sister in rehab, Harry had been doing better, much better really, and John had said she might even be able to meet her nephew soon.

            Sherlock turned onto his stomach, burying his face into John’s unused pillow and groaning into it. He would have to face the morning alone. Well... not completely alone. He sighed and sat up, yawning as he ruffled his mess of morning curls. He stretched, feeling his joints pop into place and swung his feet off the bed.

            He stumbled to the bathroom and took a quick shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and moved into the kitchen. He set the kettle to boil for tea and then walked back to his room to put some clothes on.

            He grabbed his pants and pale grey button up and pulled them on, struggling a bit with his shirt because it wasn’t unbuttoned fully at the top. He grabbed his suit trousers and began pulling them one as he headed back to the kitchen.

            He hopped about on one foot with his trousers half on until he managed to push his other leg through. He turned off the whistling kettle and put some bread in the toaster before making his morning cuppa. That was another thing; he always had to make his own tea and it was never as good as John’s. He moved to the sitting room and sat down in a chair. Sunlight was now pouring through the windows and he wondered why Hamish wasn’t up yet.

            He finished his tea and set the cup on the coffee table; things had gotten horribly cluttered since John had been gone, he’d have to fix that before his husband returned; and went back to his room. He grabbed his suit jacket and walked back out, hurrying up the stairs to his son’s room.

            “Time to wake up Hamish!” he called, pulling his jacket on as he stepped into the boy’s room. The boy grunted softly and turned over onto his side. “Come on, up you get. You don’t want to be late for school,” he said, watching as the little boy stirred and looked sleepily at his Sherlock, “… or do you?” Hamish yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He gave his father an exasperated smile that only a seven year old belonging to the Watson-Holmes could give.

            “Now, what do you want for breakfast?” the detective asked, buttoning his jacket, “and don’t say pancakes again! Only John can make those.” Hamish giggled and rubbed his head, grinning at Sherlock.

            “But… father, it’s Sunday,” the little boy told him, “I don’t go to school on Sunday. No one does.” Sherlock’s jaw dropped a bit and he stared, dumbfounded at his son. He looked at the calendar tacked on the wall in Hamish’s wall. It was indeed Sunday.

            “When is John supposed to come home?” he asked the boy, scratching the back of his head. Hamish held back a laugh and watched his father.

            “Tuesday,” he answered, really quite ready for his papa to come home. It would mean no more accident early wake up calls for him. Sherlock groaned and let his head fall back.

            “Damn it!” he cursed, smacking himself over the head, “don’t tell him about this, alright?” he told his son, walking over and placing a hand gently on his head. Hamish giggled again, covering his mouth with his hands.

            “Yes sir,” he replied, blinking up blearily at Sherlock, causing the detective’s lips to quirk up.

            “I’m sorry for waking you,” he said, pressing a kiss to the boys matching dark curls. Hamish shrugged and leaned into his father’s touch.

            “It’s alright,” he mumbled, yawning as he tried to keep his eyes open. Sherlock smiled and pressed him back into his pillows.

            “Go back to sleep. I might have breakfast ready when you get up,” he told the boy. Hamish grinned and curled back up on his mattress.

            “Yes sir,” he mumbled, yawning into his pillow, “love you.” Sherlock beamed and leaned down and kissed his temple.

            “Love you too Hamish.”


End file.
